


and now it's time to leave (and turn to dust)

by witkneec



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 210 speculation, Canon Everything, Character Death, F/F, So Bear With me, also one of the first times in a while I've done a non 2nd person pov, but it's brief, i don't think i have ever written something like this, i use it so much to avoid the 'her' fiasco, like an episode before it aired, purgatory case files, so bear with me there too, so this might be shit and if it is I'm sorry, supernatual shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 00:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11771622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witkneec/pseuds/witkneec
Summary: The sticks clatter uselessly to the ground when Waverly's focus shifts and she's running and sliding onto her knees beside Nicole's pale form. Tears flood Waverly's eyes and her hands shake as she reaches out toward Nicole's neck, praying as she does. She finds what she's looking for. The pulse is weak but it fills her with relief like she's never known. Relief that turns back into terror when she realizes how weak it is and how pale she's grown and- goddammit, goddammit!- she isn't breathing."Oh, God. Oh, God- baby. Please, Nicole. Don't die."My version of 2x10





	and now it's time to leave (and turn to dust)

**Author's Note:**

> I do not claim to know what is going to happen tomorrow night but I was really amped so I wrote this. It's probably going to end up being way off canon tomorrow night but oh well. I'm a little nervous about this because it's been a while since I wrote these ladies and I also wrote in a different perspective than I usually do so please let me know what you think. I like these two a lot so if I re-read this later and don't hate it, I will probably be writing more. 
> 
> Anyway- drop me a line and let me know what you think.

It's early- even for her, an admitted morning person- and her bones creak as she sits up, wiping a sleepy hand over an even sleeper pair of eyes, stretching her back and hissing in surprise when her feet hit the floor and the cold bites into them from where it has seeped from the outside and into the hardwood. Her next actions are automatic, almost robotic, and before she knows it she's in front of the coffee maker, pressing the button on it before filling the decanter with water from the sink, flipping the back up so she can pour the water, before turning as she hears the first pop and hiss of the machine starting to do its job.

A quick shuffle of her still sleep shocked body, her gait a little awkward, as she moves into the small bathroom, pulling the curtain of the shower back and spinning the handle above the spout until a reluctant jet of water finally makes itself seen. She checks it with her palm, frowning, and turning it a little to the left until she's satisfied with the temperature. Only then does she undress as quickly as she can to escape the still tepid air of the house, running careless fingers through messy hair, and stepping over the edge of the old tub and underneath the hot spray.

She closes her eyes as the water hits her skin and immediately stains it, bowing her head and bracing her body with tight hands against the wall. The morning so far had been robotic and routine for one reason but now- now there was nothing left to do except stand under the shower and think. Think about the probably torturous day ahead, yeah, but also about the days before. The evening before, really, when she'd finally received an answer from her angry girlfriend that sent her heart to her stomach and tears to her eyes.

She clenches her eyelids and her fingers until they bite against her palms and fights the onslaught of words that she couldn't help but memorize. The ones where Waverly had called her a control freak and told her- that she should have fun hurting the people that she loved-

The thoughts cause a fresh wave of guilt and sadness to sweep over her and she opens her eyes even as her jaw clenches and she shakes her head. Because, she thinks, she deserves it. She was trying- trying to spare Waverly the hurt of finding out that she wasn't who she always thought she was, trying to let her have a few more days before her entire world broke apart around her shoulders and brought her to her knees. But that's not what Waverly wanted and she'd hurt the woman she loved even after she had vowed to always be with her. And she knew. Knew that no matter what she had wanted, it didn't matter because it wasn't what Waverly wanted. It wasn't fair. She hadn't been fair. 

And God- if she could go back and do it all over again, differently, she would, she knows that. Knows that she wouldn't open that goddamn envelope and seal her fate, that she would just hold her girlfriend as she cried and told her that they would go through it all and deal with it all, together. And she thinks that that is the worst part of all of this. That, in the end, she had promised to stay by Waverly's side through the whole “self discovery” process and that in the end, had damned herself and the other woman with the burden to bear it, alone. Nicole Hauhgt was a lot of things but she wasn't used to being a liar and a disappointment. And now- now that she knows that Waverly thinks she's controlling and selfish and manipulative- now that's all she can feel, all she can taste and breathe and it hurts in a way she's not sure she's ever hurt before and it's because of herself and that- makes it all the worse. 

Her lungs ache and her skin stings and she wants to sink into the steam and sob out her frustration but she doesn't. She tries to quell the thoughts and bite at her lips to stave off the sorrow. And for a while, it works. She washes her hair and her body and rinses and repeats and twists the knob to turn the water off when she's done, arm coming out to catch a towel that hangs on the hook beside the curtain. 

She wraps the towel around her body after a quick attempt to dry her hair. With a deep breath, she steps out of the warm sanctuary of the shower and into the cool air of the bathroom. She dresses quickly with the clothes she had laid out the night before- a dark blue button down and comfortable pair of jeans- before pulling out the blow dryer and flipping the switch, and running it in circles above her her head. It doesn't take nearly as long now that she chopped hair off, barely ten minutes, and with one last look at herself in the mirror and moderately pleased at what she saw, opened the door and padded into the kitchen, her senses immediately being consumed by the strong scent of even stronger coffee. She pours herself a cup and sets it on the table to cool before heading into her bedroom to grab the device she had been avoiding since the infamous text to check it for any new messages. 

Her heart beats hard and her brain is dizzy because she doesn't know if she wants another message or an answer to any of the three voice mails she had left the day before because as far as she is concerned, no message is better than the biting, hurtful words she had received. With a deep breath, she presses the home button and- nothing. Not a message, not a word. 

Her stomach twists and her mind changes- at least before she had actually heard from Waverly. The radio silence hurts worse than those painful words. The tears are in her throat again and she swallows them down. She wants to text or call and see if Waverly is okay, wherever she is, or see if she's just home and safe and whole but she stops herself. It was obvious Waverly needed space and Nicole wanted to give it to her no matter how much it battered her heart own in the process so instead she pockets the phone and heads into her kitchen. 

Coffee cup in hand, she rifles through the cupboard until she finds a packet of instant oatmeal. Four minutes later, she's sitting down with the bowl and cup at her kitchen table and pulling her phone out once more, checking her email and notifications from the day before. It's mid bite when she sees a picture of the woman she had been trying not to think about all morning pop up on her news feed. 

At first glace, her heart stutters and then stops because holy shit she knows how Waverly looks naked but her in a barely there bikini is something else entirely, but when she furrows her brow and looks at it more closely, her stomach bottoms out because it's not just Waverly in the picture but also a similarly dressed Rosita and they're in a hot tub, shoulder to shoulder, with champagne flutes and full smiles and-

She doesn't take the bite. 

She drains her coffee in a few large gulps and tries to tamp down the bitterness and jealousy she feels because it's stupid. The idea of Waverly and Rosita doing anything deceitful just because they're both beautiful, scantily clad women at a- she checks the tag- a spa? Just because of- all that- didn't mean she had any right or reason to be jealous.

She tells herself that, anyway. She shakes her head and rises to put her half empty bowl and cup in the sink and tries to shake the images her mind is trying to create. It was stupid- Waverly would never-

She's only interrupted by a knock on the door. She can't help the jolt her heart gives when she thinks of who must behind the door. No one ever came out to her house- well, unless they were Waverly. 

She doesn't even check through the window of the door like she's prone to do, her heart too excited at the prospect of the seeing the woman who had stolen it for the first time in days.

She reaches the door in quick strides, turning the knob and opening it with a smile threatening her lips. Waverly's name falling from them in a question.

The smile melts away as her mind processes the woman- or thing- in front of her and her neck prickles as dread kicks in and spreads goosebumps onto her skin. The woman smiles a twisted smile and tilts her head while Nicole is frozen is shock, in fear.

“'Fraid not, sweetheart. You're just gonna have to settle for me.”

Nicole watches the Widow step over the doorway, smells the death that wafts off of- it- and glances toward the living room where she keeps her extra rifle. She starts to shift her body, to turn, in an attempt to go after it, knowing that the moment the creature was on her there was very little she could do to stop whatever it had planned for the deputy. 

But it's futile. It doesn't matter. The Widow moves toward her at a break neck speed before closing her cold and putrid fingers around Nicole's throat and squeezing.

Her eyes bug, her fingers claw, her chest struggles to take in any air. She feels it the moment that the Widow raises her up until her feet barely scratch the floor- the end. She knows it. She doesn't know how but Nicole Haught knows that this is going to be it- that this is the way she's going to die. Her vision begins to blur and spot and she can hear her heart pounding in her chest. She gasps as Waverly's face comes into view as the moments tick by, as the grip becomes tighter and tighter.

The dark engulfs her. Her head lolls and her body goes slack. She doesn't feel it when the Widow unceremoniously drops her to the floor, her body crumpling after landing with a dull thud. 

She doesn't see the way the Widow crouches down with a maniacal grin and refastens her hand to her neck and puffs vile breath in her face. The way that she tuts and does her best to crush the officer's larynx with her clawed fingers. 

It's all so dark.

-  
-  
-

Nicole Haught's daddy died when she was five years old. She had never known her mama and who'd faced a similar fate from a traumatic childbirth and though she was always a little melancholy about not having and a mom and a dad, her father did his best to keep her mind off of it as much as he could. She doesn't remember much but she remembers warmth and kisses at bedtime after stories of knights and princesses and dinosaurs and stars and sitting on the counter watching as he pressed precise lines into his uniform pants with a sizzling iron whistling old Willie Nelson songs, Nicole humming along. She doesn't remember much but she remembers it was good- before the accident, before the ashen face of her Aunt appeared in front of her and breathed words that made Nicole's face crumple and the older woman to sweep the child into her arms, soothing her with small, calm reassurances.

Her aunt is nice, really. She's single but she's always wanted kids and treats Nicole like the one she never had. She's kind and forgiving and understanding and raises Nicole well. Steadfast, strong, brave and loyal. But she does grows up and before she knows it, she's faced with the future and has to choose a school to go to and a degree path and- it's a lot. A lot a lot. Because she doesn't want to go, want to leave her Aunt Lorraine, but she knows that her heart calls out for something else- something bigger, maybe- than being the tragic story that everyone whispered about as soon as Nicole was out of earshot. So- she chooses and packs her old beaten up pick up and heads north to the big city, fighting the urge to cry the moment it rolls past the county line. 

She graduates from the university in three years, keeping her head down as best she can. There are girls and friends and fun in between, yes, but her focus is what she's known she's wanted to be since her daddy had sat her on his knee and showed her his shield. To go to the academy, graduate high in the ranks, and serve just like the man before her. 

The academy is tough but she excels under pressure. She's smart and fast and strong and moves up quickly, smiling a little smugly when she stands front row at the induction ceremony, first in her class. She has a multitude of job offers- Toronto, Calgary- but for some reason, she keeps getting drawn back over and over to a little town whose sheriff had made his intent very clear the first time he'd spoken to her and basically told her he was looking for a successor and thought Nicole really fit the bill. She tries the name out on her tongue, likes the way it rolls off of it. She wants to be careful, though- really wants to make the right decision so Nicole packs her truck up again and travels the hours to her aunt's home, greeting her with a warm smile and a tight embrace.They sit for dinner and catch each other up on topics not covered in short conversations and scattered emails.

She spends her days in her old room, in her old haunts. She sees an old girlfriend and seriously considers kissing her to see if what she had once felt was as deep and heady as she remembers. She sifts through boxes in the attic looking through old records and pictures, keeping a couple of her father and mother from before she had been born. An hour in, she comes to a box with an old, rusted lock on it. She tinkers with the mechanism for a second before putting her weight into it and twisting, smiling a little when it gives and opens.

Paper. Lots of paper- weathered and yellow and curled. 

She begins to thumb through them, absently wondering why the documents are so important as to be behind lock and key. 

It doesn't take her long to find out why once she catches her own name on one of them. And then another. And then another.

Adoption papers. 

She wanders downstairs like a zombie, calmly finds Lorraine, sets the papers down in front of her. 

Lorraine doesn't say anything for a long moment. When she does, it's soft and gentle.

"Honey- you were left behind at a hospital when you were new. Your daddy was the one to- take the report. He and your mama couldn't have kids and- that's all there is to it. I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say or-"

She stares blankly for a few long minutes before her knees buckle and she's collapsing into a chair, feeling dazed.

"So- no one knows-?"

"No, baby. They tried to track down the birth mother but nothing ever came from it."

Her stomach aches and her knees are wobbly but she stands anyway.

"Thank you for telling me."

The words are dull and robotic.

"Nicole- baby- listen-"

She turns. Her eyes are open and wet and darkened with confusion.

"I wish- I just wish that I didn't know, you know? I'm just- I was so proud to call that man my father and that's not true and I- I'm not even a Haught."

Lorraine stands at that and reaches for her niece, pulling her into her chest and holding tighter when Nicole heaves a heavy, watery sigh.

"Now- that man was a lot of things. Good and strong and brave- just like you. And that man was also your father whether his blood runs through your veins or not. He loved you so much, Nicole. He wasn't your sperm donor but he was your father. I understand being mixed up about this but never forget that."

She swallows and nods and takes one more minut to lean on her aunt before she's wiping at her eyes and sniffling and pulling away with a tight smile.

She makes her decision later that night, fingers shaking a little as she makes the call.

"Sheriff Nedley? Yeah- this is Nicole, Nicole Haught? I was just calling to respond to your offer, sir. When can I start?"

And Purgatory is bat shit crazy and a lot of inexplicable things happen there but it also holds the most beautiful woman she's ever seen and it takes a while, yeah, but that lady straddles her one day in her boss' office and Nicole knew she was gone the day that they shook hands for the first time, yes, but this is different, this is kissing and her beautiful fucking body pressed up against hers and Waverly is gasping and being flipped over so Nicole can dominate the kiss and they're both gone gone gone.

Waverly is happiness and a pounding heart and spending all day in bed and a cotton mouth and words of adoration pushing at Nicole's lips. And Nicole loves her more than she's ever loved anyone or anything and wants forever if she can have it with Waverly. Whatever she needs, whatever she wants, as long as she wants her. Nicole will greedily take all she can get. 

God, she loves her. Needs her. Wants to protect her. She wishes it was enough. She knows she's not.

-  
-  
-

Waverly Earp is nervous. Like- nervous nervous. Because she kissed another woman and betrayed her girlfriend and said things she never should have said. Because she was angry and betrayed herself by someone she was supposed to be able to trust and there's all of that but now there's the fact that she kissed someone else when she only wants to kiss a certain someone and it's all just- fucked.

The situation is balls and she's nervous.

She pulls up behind the familiar squad car and takes a deep breath, looking at her reflection in the mirror on the underside of the visor. Her feet crunch in the snow and she works the words- the explanation, the apology- in her head all the way up to the door before taking another huge breath and her raising her hand to knock. Her hand doesn't make it to the wood, freezing in mid air when a loud scrape and muffled thump sound from inside. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end and the way that she shoulders into the door is thoughtless, panic gripping her chest as it swings open and reveals the sight of the Widow straddling her unconscious girlfriend on the floor.

It's hissing, turning toward Waverly with heavy eyes and bared teeth. She glances to her left and sees a broom propped in the corner. An idea forms and she's grabbing it, bringing her knee up into it and pushing her hands until it snaps, splintered, in two before she can ever second guess herself. 

She sends a silent thank you to Dolls at the first heavy hit, the satisfying thud as it cracks heavily into her ribs. 

All she can see is Nicole, lifeless on the floor, and she uses it, rage coloring her vision and fueling every hard and heavy strike with the impromptu weapon. She doesn't know how long it takes before the Widow tires of the blows, turning toward the door she entered into and escaping into the surrounding woods.

The sticks clatter uselessly to the ground when Waverly's focus shifts and then she's running and sliding onto her knees beside Nicole's pale form. Tears flood Waverly's eyes and her hands shake as she reaches out toward Nicole's neck, praying as she does. She finds what she's looking for. The pulse is weak but it fills her with relief like she's never known. Relief that turns back into terror when she realizes just how weak it is and how pale she's grown and- goddammit, goddammit!- she isn't breathing.

"Oh, God. Oh, God- baby. Please, Nicole. Don't die."

Her hands are still shaking as they pull out the phone in her pocket and she dials the only number she can think of. 

An operator answers on the third ring, when Waverly is setting the phone on the ground and tipping the other woman's face and bracing her hands, clenched one on top of the other, firmly in the center of her chest. She pumps once when the operator asks her the nature of her emergency.

"I- my name is Waverly Earp. I'm at- Nicole Haught- she's a deputy with the sheriff's department- she's- been attacked and she's-"

A small sob threatens to break out into the open air.

"-she's not breathing. I need an ambulance. Please- send an ambulance. The address, it's-"

She hears a pop and static on the other end before another voice breaks over the radio. And it's familiar.

"Goddamn it- are you administering CPR?"

"Yes! It's- I think- she's been strangled. I don't know how long she's been down- Oh God, Sheriff-"

His voice changes. It becomes soft but retains its authority.

"You need to stay calm, Waverly. I can dispatch an ambulance but she lives- out. It'll be at least 20 minutes before they can even get there. Can you move her? Is she stable enough to be moved? Are you good to drive?"

The questions are coming but all she can focus on is the steady breath she is pouring into Nicole's mouth, the hard and desperate jerk of her hands against the blue cotton of her shirt.

"Waverly! Can you hear me? I'm heading your way. Get her in the car and I'll meet you and escort you the rest of the way in. You got that?"

Three pumps, two breaths. Three pumps, two breaths.

"Damn it, Earp!"

That shocks her into action. 

It's easier than she thought it would be to get Nicole in the Jeep, buckling her in as securely as she can before peeling out of the gravel drive, dust swirling around her. 

She's never driven so fast in her life. She's never hated a drive so fucking much in her life.

Nedley meets them five minutes out, spotting them and turning with squealing tires and more dust clouding her vision before leading them at a breakneck speed. When she looks down, her speedometer is in the red. Waverly rides the bumper of the cruiser until the hospital looms in the distance.

It's a blur after that- squealing to a stop in front of the emergency room doors, hopping out and meeting Nedley at the side door, swallowing down more tears as he picks Nicole's limp body up out of the seat and in through the automatic doors, Waverly hot on his heels, afraid to let her out of her sight.

"Someone please help her! She's not breathing."

Her words are panicked and nearly swallowed by Nedely's simultaneous "Officer down!" that echoes through the waiting room. A split second as everyone stops and blinks at them before they spur into action, a nurse rolling a stretcher out as a swarm of people in white coats and scrubs are lifting Nicole up and out of the sheriff's hands and laying her out on the cushioned surface.

They're asking questions and Nedley's trying his best to answer them but all Waverly can do is stare at Nicole. At her blue lips and pale cheeks and lifeless body. All she can think of is the regret.

They wheel her back and they're shouting and then Nicole is gone. She's gone and she's not breathing and Waverly can't breathe, either.

Her knees wobble. She begins to stumble when a firm set of hands- again, familiar- steady her. She expects Nedley. Instead, she gets her sister staring at her with concern in her eyes and questions on her lips. And Waverly has been strong so far, she has, but she can't- she can't do it anymore when Wynonna is staring at her with something like pity and a swollen belly and soft eyes while Nicole is blue and breathless in the next room. 

The first sob comes out with a gasp, the second a whimper. She whispers the words "Nicole-I don't think. She's not breathing, Wynonna. She's- I oh my God."

She melts into Wynonna's arms when the words stop and the harsh sounds of heartbreak are all that wrack the air.

-  
-  
-

She dreams. Dreams of cuts offs and bar t-shirts and slow mo strides with hypnotic hips.

She dreams of lunch time sandwich deliveries and stolen moments in the evidence room. Of Waverly nervously getting down on one knee and asking her, in all seriousness, if Nicole would want to maybe marry her someday. Of a small ceremony with a glowing Doc and a chubby girl who looks so much like her sister in law for a flower girl. Of a life without the threat of death and always impending doom. Of a world where the future was about love and home without the demons to round it out. Of frowning when she catches her reflection in the full length mirror in their bedroom because yeah it's been a thing for a couple of months now but it's really starting to show, the child growing inside of her, and she's so happy but also sad because Waverly calls her favorite pair of jeans that no longer fit her "good ass jeans" and takes great pleasure in peeling them off of her body and that won't be a thing for a while now but- oh well. It's all worth it.

She dreams.

-  
-  
-

Wynonna and Doc leave first, heading back toward Nicole's home intent on finding clues as to why she was targeted for attack. Waverly stares miserably in the direction of where she last saw her girlfriend, eyes distant and glassy and red rimmed. Tears fall intermittently but she barely bats at them anymore, lost in her own thoughts.

The doctor comes out an hour later. 

She's breathing. She's breathing- they got her breathing- are the words that flood Waverly's head and heart and it feels good until he starts talking about how she's not doing anything on her own, how machines are the only thing keeping her alive, that they will continue to monitor her but maybe it was time to start thinking about the reality of having to say goodbye-

Her eyes close. Her shoulders slump. It feels like her entire rib cage drops and shatters onto the cold hospital floor.

She doesn't mean to but she interrupts his words.

"Can I- can I see her? Please."

The doctor looks at her with a sympathetic smile.

"Of course. This way-"

Dolls basically carries her to Nicole's room. Waverly is thankful for it when her knees buckle at the first sight of the woman she loves with a mask on her face, a ventilator pumping up and down beside her as it works to inflate her lungs. 

The tears come then- steady and hot and she tries but she can't turn them off and Doll's moves with her, for her, until they're both beside the bed.

"Oh, God-"

The words push out of Waverly's mouth and once they do, they can't be stopped.

"Nicole- baby- I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry. I promise- I promise if you wake up, I will never shut you out again. I promise I will love you as hard and as much as I can for the rest of my life because I want it to be you- forever- for the rest of ever, you hear me? I love you. I love you and I need you and I can't- I can't imagine my life without you- I don't fucking want to, Nicole. Please, baby, please."

Her fingers don't twitch even as Waverly sinks down in a chair Dolls drags over from the corner, clutching at a pale, tepid hand. She begs until Dolls stands to the side and draws her face to lay against his stomach, cradling her head. 

Even then- through the cloth muffling her cries- Waverly's haphazard prayers lift up and echo in the room, drowning out the steady swishing of the machines.

-  
-  
-

Nicole never really gets curious about her identity, not really. Once, on a whim, she searches her adopted family's history and sends her DNA in for genealogy testing. 

The search doesn't turn much up- a couple of articles about a long lost great uncle and weird links to some occult stuff that she doesn't even want to begin to get into, dismissing it as wild fantasy. A week later, the test returns and the words "inconclusive" make her stomach twists into knots. 

That night, after she's spent the evening tossing and turning, she drifts into a nightmare ridden slumber. In the morning she won't be able to make out specific details but snippets and whispers still resound in her ears.

And a name. 

Baron. Baron. Baron. 

It rings in her ears for the rest of the week. The day that it stops, she thinks, ironically, is the day she steps into Purgatory and feels something like comfort settle deep into her gut. She writes it off as hope. Waverly Earp makes her think it's fate. 

She settles somewhere between the two.

-  
-  
-

Waverly wakes to beeping. And not the kind that she's used to- not the slow and steady, soothing sound of a stable heart but the panicked wailing of an alarm. 

Nicole- her eyes take the woman in- Nicole's eyes are open and wide and hear mouth is trying to gasp out words around the tubing lodged in her throat and that's when Waverly begins to scream. For a doctor. For her sister. For God. 

It's all panic then and pushing the small woman out of the room and words like "clear" and "dropping" terrorizing her with their urgency. It's all weak legs and keening wails when she can see the feet of the woman in the bed and the way that they jump when the paddles press to her chest. It's blank stares and heavy breath when long moments turn to agony and silence. When voices begin to taper off until there is nothing but silence- stunned and somber, her stomach clenches. Her body heaves when a female voice mutters time of death.

Waverly's world ends then and there in the hallway of a hospital, hunched over and dry heaving into a trashcan.

-  
-  
-

It's warm where she is. Warm and bright and peaceful. She doesn't know where she's at but she's okay with existing there for a little while. 

In this place where she doesn't hurt and she's content, if a little lonely. 

The feeling dissipates the moment a noise pulls her attention and she turns. The image makes her mouth drop and her eyes well with tears. 

Joseph Haught stands before her with an easy grin and bright eyes. She doesn't even know how she gets to him but she does and nearly weeps when the smell of him- Old Spice and gunpowder- wafts into her nostrils as he nearly crushes her with an embrace. 

Long moments are spent like that- breathing in his smell and trying to convince herself it was real. He pulls away after eons, cups her cheek with a calloused palm, and smiles.

"You grew up, kid. It looks good on ya."

She can't speak.

"Sad to see you here so soon. Last time I checked, you weren't due for- a while."

She still can't speak.

He shakes his head again when he's met with more silence and puts his arm around her in reply instead.

"Anyway, kid, not gonna complain that you're here. You wanna take a look around and see what this place is like? There is so much more to it than you could ever imagine. But I think that's the point."

He leads her away. Her heart is bursting and her smile is wide and she almost forgets about the loneliness she had been thinking about before.

-  
-  
-

Waverly doesn't eat. She doesn't sleep. She doesn't cry anymore. She doesn't really do anything at all.

Wynonna found her later that night in the hospital clinging to Nicole's side. She had begged and pleaded and apologized but- Waverly wouldn't budge. It had taken the three guys to pry her away, Dolls hugging her tightly from behind when she began to flail as they moved further toward the door. The doctors offered a sedative. Wynonna accepted the prescription. 

Since then, it had been phone calls and arrangements for Nicole's heartbroken Aunt and Waverly- Waverly didn't know how much she more she could stand. So, with bloodshot eyes and shaking hands, she plucks her keys from the hook beside the door and finds herself speeding toward Nicole's house, heavy with grief and anger and desperation.

She shoulders her way in and begins to look- for what she doesn't know- maybe a link to the woman she still loved and suspected she always would or something that maybe Nicole left behind that would give Waverly some sort of fucking closure- she really doesn't know for what before settling down in the chair in front of the desk and booting up Nicole's computer. 

The password ends up being her name and that information nearly strangles her so she busies herself with looking at histories and pictures and tabs. It's all very normal and nothing she hasn't seen before and for some reason that makes a sob crest up and out of her mouth into the air and close her eyes as tightly as she can, defeated. Nothing. Nicole had left nothing out of the ordinary or special for her to find because she was killed for no reason, with no warning, and-

A password protected file pops up in the window when she accidentally knocks into the keyboard. Trying to control her hitching breath, she clicks on it and enters the same password as she did at the home page, shaking her head at the officer's predictability. What greets her eyes as the file opens makes her stomach clench, her eyes water, her chest pound. 

Curses and legends and bargains- oh, shit. Oh, shit!

It consumes her. She's clicking and dragging information from each file, compiling it into a document, her heart pounding with every highlighted sentence. 

The moment that she finds it, she screams. Honest to God screams. And then- after copying all of it onto a thumb drive- runs as fast as she can, something like hope and fire in her chest.  
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She doesn't know how long she stays there in the place that is warm where her father tells her stories and shows her the wonder of the world they now exist in. She doesn't know because time doesn't seem to matter here- just the lightness in her body and the sun on her face with her daddy by her side. But one day- one day, while they're laying on the sand and mindlessly discussing procedure, she has a thought and it's out of her mouth before she can save it.

"I know you're not my real father. I don't know if you knew that I know that, but-"

He's quiet for a long time, the only sound the ocean lapping against the shore.

"I know."

Another long, ocean filled beat.

"Do you know anything about-?"

He shakes his head and sighs. 

"Only that your birth mother was terrified of you. That she couldn't take care of you. I think- she was sick? Kept muttering about curses and- and keys and reincarnation. I offered to take you. Your mom and I didn't- know how to bring it up and decided to wait until you were older. And then- your mama got sick- but I couldn't explain that either and then you were all I had left and even though you weren't my blood, you were mine and I didn't want you to ever question that but- then I- left you anyway."

She shakes her own head, tears welling when she sees the contrite look upon his face, the sheen of his own tears.

"That's not- I'm not mad about the adoption, daddy. And you made me happy. And left me to a woman who has spent her whole life trying to do that, too. I just- do you know what it's like not to know who you are?"

He scoffs at that.

"You're a Haught, always have been. That's never going to change-"

"No, daddy. I mean- I know it's not all about genes and parentage but- I just wonder- who they were that helped inform who I am? Does that makes sense?"

He stares at her for a long time.

"What's got you all twisted up, baby girl?"

She just smiles and closes her eyes, shaking her head.

"Nothing, daddy. Nothing."

Her mind wanders, though, and it makes her stomach ache. Because she's dead, she thinks. Dead and maybe in heaven but it doesn't feel like home despite the happiness it brings and there is something inside of her that is screaming out-

Nicole closes her eyes and thinks of Waverly Earp and her heart aches.

When she opens them to turn to her father, she is no longer on sand or by water. She's in a dark place and she's stiff and it- it hurts for the first time since those days in the hospital- and it's quiet and-

A thump. Something- a door of some kind opens above her head- and dust falls from where it swings on its hinges. Her eyes hurt as light spills in from the other side. A hand grabs at her wrist and her body is lifted up and out of what she realizes, with a start, is a coffin and she squints her eyes and looks down to see her body filthy and soot sticking to her skin. Her sallow, bruised skin. 

Her mind is spinning and her lungs are aching and she realizes that it's because she has yet to have taken a breath and when she does, the relief is incredible- like something she's needed to do for ages. Her eyes begin to adjust and she seeks out the body attached to the hand that is dragging her toward a chair. 

Little by little, as her eyes become used to the change, the figure begins to appear. 

When her eyes finally focus, the man before her gives a smile she can only describe as predatory. And she's never seen him before but his name is already clear in her head. She can't explain it.

"Baron Samedi."

His grin, if anything, gets wider.

"Right you are, Ms. Haught. It's so good to see you again."

Her brow furrows and he throws his head back with a sharp laugh.

"Oh, God, this is going to be fun."

She glares at him with annoyance and confusion.

"Buckle up, sweetheart because have we got some things to discuss."

Her cheeks flame. His eyebrow arches. And then he begins his story.

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End file.
